


still high with a little feeling

by twoheadlights (fizzfic)



Series: tour fics [3]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, JETLAGGED CUDDLING, M/M, Post-TATINOF, Sleepy Cuddles, home fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 10:31:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7529272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzfic/pseuds/twoheadlights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>they're home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	still high with a little feeling

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by el aka philapples‘s beautiful and actually, frankly offensive [art](http://philapples.tumblr.com/post/146853663631/just-me-phil-and-houseplants-aka-home) and this is my payback ily crypanion

“ _Listen,” I say, but he doesn’t look up. “You have a home. You know that, though, right? It’s not fixed to one place, it’s not a physical location. It’s people, and when you’re with them, you’re home_.”

 

—The Heart Rate Of A Mouse, Vol 3, Part II, Chapter 9

 

Dan remembers the first time he and Phil first considered moving to London. It _was_ for the BBC, but also for them. Still, something in the back of his mind kept saying it was a bad idea.

He doesn't know why he's thinking of this on the flight back from Los Angeles, almost four years later exactly butfour years later. Moving into the flat they live in now was hectic. Going from Manchester to London every single day in the heat. He remembers the last box getting there vividly. He’d made Phil carry it by himself (completely justified, of course – Phil had done it at least three other times) and laughed at his heavy breathing, half-naked (he’d taken his shirt and shorts off because he was too hot) form on the bathroom floor.

The minute they’re in, they both rush to Phil’s room and fall into bed together. “Jet lag,” Phil murmurs from somewhere on Dan’s right.

“Fuck it,” he murmurs back.

Dan wakes up though, drowsy and grouchy, because the sun is out for once. He notices Phil firmly attached to his body, his arms around his waist and head on his chest and his insides melt. He hadn’t even bothered taking his glasses off, so Dan does that for him. He pushes his (kind of sweaty) fringe back from his forehead and eyes and kisses it softly.

He tries to detach himself with great difficulty and looks around the room. It’s only because he’s naturally quite observant that he can see the fine layer of dust that’s settled on the surface of most of Phil’s belongings. His eyes fall on the houseplant next to the TV; the first one (or second one? Dan can’t even remember). “Oh no.” He whispers to himself.

It didn’t survive (like Dan predicted, to be _honest_ ). He shrugs and goes back to sleep. Phil can find out himself.

-

“Oh well.” Phil sighs, setting down the last of his cactii that he’d been inspecting. Out of the multi gazillion plants Phil owns, only two or three seem to be worth reviving. He spends the next ten minutes texting Martyn, demanding to know why he was so incapable of watering his plants and getting over it precisely two seconds after putting his phone down.

Dan’s in the kitchen, preparing breakfast (waffles with maple syrup and nutella), when he walks in and yelps.

“Dan, no, not that spatula!” He dives for the spatula and snatches it from Dan.

“Phil, what the fuck?” Dan rubs his hand. “Why not?”

“Because,” Phil bites his lip, “it could have pigeon rabies on it?”

Dan narrows his eyes and tilts his head to the side. “It _what_?”

-

They cuddle. So much. The sofa crease didn’t stand a chance.

“I know I say this all the time, but do you think our backs curse us for being like this?” Phil asks. He has his head resting on Dan’s chest, stroking Dan’s arm around him.

“You’re the one with the bad posture.” Dan replies. “I still have a few more years, I reckon.” He tries to flex his shoulder muscles and winces. That hurt more than it should’ve. “Months?”

Phil laughs and shakes his head. His hair is pushed right back, forehead in clear view and tempting Dan to lean forward and kiss it. He does and Phil flinches, giggling. “It’s good to be back.”

Dan nods. It really is. Although...he doesn’t feel any different, other than the obvious things. Not once did he feel homesick in America. There were maybe three moments he thought about the flat in London (no offence to the flat).

It’s not the same, going back home this time. Not like they’d just taken a holiday and come back to the same place. The last time Dan had needed to get used to his own home was when they returned from Japan. Like waking up from a dream, that was. Now, he wakes up in the middle of the night because of jet lag of course, but also the noises from outside; the sounds of horns and yelling of drunk men. It makes him feel eerily like he’s back in America, driving along the highways, waking up suddenly, because he thinks they’ve just hit a speedbump and he’s going to fall off the bed. But the bed is stationary and Phil is next to him as always, asleep and calm.

-

“Just me, Phil and house plants?” Phil asks, eyebrow raised. He has his laptop balanced on his outstretched legs, scrolling through his dashboard. “That’s a great line, Dan. You should write a book.”

“It’s a good summary of our home.” Dan says. He’s still looking at the replies to his tweets, seeing if there’s anything more he wants to say.

“The plushies are offended. And so is our extensive DVD collection.”

“They’ve been here longer, some since Manchester. They’ll live.”

Phil smiles then. “Since Manchester. God, I don’t even remember what that was like. It seems like a whole other life.”

“I do. It was surreal until the last minute, I think. Especially after I dropped out. I couldn’t believe I had my own place so soon, you know? That wasn’t supposed to happen until at _least_ third year. And it wasn’t like we spent that much time in the actual flat. We were always on holiday.”

“What, like we weren’t just in America for _three months_ here?” Phil retorts.

“It’s different.” Dan insists. He gets up and goes to sit next to Phil on the sofa. He takes the laptop off – “Hey!” Phil protests but makes no attempt to get it back – and lays his head down on his chest and sighs. “It’s like…” He shuts his eyes tight and tries to find the words to explain it. “Like, I’m home right now but I felt at home in America too. You know? Wait, no, I’m not saying this right.” He sighs frustratingly. He hates jet lag (which he’s blaming for his complete brain fryage, obviously).

Phil strokes his hair, pushing his fringe back. “You wanna know what I felt?” He asks. “I felt like I never left here when we were there, because I had you. And that really did help. Having that familiarity with me. Like, obviously, it wasn’t just you,” he smirks, “Martyn was there, but as we all know, you very rudely kept me for yourself and I hardly ever saw my brother, nothing new—”

“ _Please_ ,” Dan rolls his eyes.

“But that’s my point, like. I think we didn’t feel homesick because we had each other? Unless you don’t feel that. I do, anyway. I think…”

But what Phil thinks, Dan doesn’t find out because he’s fast asleep again, giving in to the fatigue and snuggling right into Phil’s hoodie to the sound of his voice telling him that he’s home. But really, he’s always been there.

**Author's Note:**

> reblog and like on [tumblr](http://phanwich.tumblr.com/post/147650552830/still-high-with-a-little-feeling)!


End file.
